Lost and Found
by edwardandbella4evah
Summary: Three-shot. Courtney tries to patch the broken boy she had once loved so well.
Geoff and Bridgette thought it was a great idea.

However, at the moment, Courtney could not be any more bored. She couldn't remember exactly how Bridgette had goaded her into coming in the first place, but she definitely regretted it. Maybe it had something to do with guilt. Or more so, the slight admiration that she had towards the young couple for their desire to keep everyone together.

Nevertheless, she had no clue what she was doing sitting on their couch with fifteen of the other old contestants, watching the latest installment of hell.

She was the only one who shared this sentiment apparently, as many of the others quite enjoyed it. Granted, many of the others had consumed copious amounts of alcohol, and it showed as they cheered at the TV before they fell back in laughter. Courtney sighed, leaning forward as she tried to stomach watching the newest Total Drama failure. What was it called again? The ridiculous—whatever. Her eyes glazed over as she watched the contestants get pummeled and destroyed; and for _what_? She swept her eyes across the room, watching the people she had shared a season, and some more than one season, react to this garbage. Courtney couldn't believe that they had all been so fame hungry and thirsty for money to subject themselves to that humiliation.

She couldn't believe, but she remembered it well.

Courtney leaned back and mused that the experience had not truly been all so horrible. There was that rush of adrenaline as they raced around, completing mundane challenges, and the pride and joy for her teammates when they won. She remembered the glorious ecstasy of sitting in first class, eating sweets and getting her feet rubbed. She vividly remembered the forbidden sweetness of peanut butter and jelly, followed by a pair of soft lips.

She turned her head and looked to Duncan, whom she had almost forgotten had even come to this thing. He sat there quietly, not cheering along with the others, not sitting by Gwen—though they had long ago broken up—or Geoff or Bridgette or anyone. He sat alone, gazing at the screen, seemingly lost to a world of his own. Courtney felt a pang of pity for him. She'd heard the stories from Gwen, of his ordeals in prison. She regretted not visiting him herself, she had certainly meant to.

Looking back at the television, Courtney couldn't help but feel sympathy towards the young adults competing. They had no idea what would be in store for them once the show was over and done with. How the company, say nothing of Chris, would milk them for sequels, endorsements, reunion shows… the thought of _those_ memories made her sick. Though perhaps, they had it the worst; after all, they had been the original twenty-two, and then twenty-four.

Courtney stood to get herself something to drink, walking towards the brightly lit kitchen and scouring for something non-alcoholic. She never could stand the taste, and even when she could bear that, it only clouded her head and fogged her memories. She had just managed to secure a bottle of water when she heard footsteps, and she looked up to see a familiar face.

"Need a break from the _total drama_?" Gwen asked, a knowing smirk on her face.

"That joke is so old it isn't even funny," Courtney retorted, taking a sip of her water. "But otherwise, yes. It isn't entertaining in the least. It's just..."

"Sad," Gwen finished for her, leaning against the kitchen island. "I thought it would be fun, or just... I don't know, different maybe."

"But it's not, isn't it? It's the same teenage hopefuls, embarrassing themselves for an inconceivable sum of money that isn't even worth it."

"Isn't worth it? I dunno," Gwen says, running a hand through her hair. "A million dollars sure would have made it worth it."

"Would it have, though? Look at Duncan," Courtney said, and they both turned their heads to look at the delinquent. Clearly a million dollars would not take away what he had been through in prison.

"Have you spoken to him yet?"

"You're the only person I have spoken to since I got here. Aside from Geoff and Bridgette, but I don't think their drunken hellos count," Courtney said. "Besides, I wasn't anyone's friend, quite the opposite actually. So no one is exactly dying to speak with me either."

"Don't get all mopey, if Bridgette hadn't convinced you to come, you never would have wanted to see any of these people ever again."

"True," Courtney quipped with a smirk. "But it's been two years since our last run. You think people would have been a little more forgiving."

Gwen hummed before stretching and cracking her neck. "I think I'll head out soon. Trent is playing tonight and I told him I'd swing by. Wanna come? Continue this _thrilling_ reunion. Give the tabloids something to write about."

Courtney rolled her eyes. "And feed any more fire they have for Gwentney? No thanks, I've had enough of our lesbian coupleship."

"Ouch. That hurts," Gwen mocked. "Seriously though. Come by, he'll appreciate the moral support."

"Maybe I'll come by later."

"So, no?"

"I didn't say that, I said maybe."

"Courtney, as your lesbian ex-girlfriend, I think I know that when you say maybe, it means no." Gwen narrowly avoided the water bottle that soared at her head. "Bitch."

"Always and forever," Courtney reminded. "Go. See Trent, tell him I say hi and good luck."

"I will," Gwen said, nodding to her friend before leaving the kitchen. Courtney watched her say her goodbyes to her friends and give Duncan a squeeze on his shoulder before she left. Duncan's face never changed, as if nothing had happened and nothing had changed. Courtney wondered why he'd even come, watching this only seemed to make him that much worse.

She walks over to the couch, and before she can stop herself, she takes a seat beside him.

"Hey."

Duncan doesn't glance her way; he gives her a small nod to acknowledge her presence.

"Stupid, isn't it? The cycle just keeps going. There will always be a group of desperate young people vying for money," Courtney remarked, leaning back some. Duncan grunted, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. Courtney recognized this habit. He'd said it had started while in Juvie, when he was trying not to think about what he had done. Gwen had told her it had gotten worse when he went to prison.

"Do you want to leave and get a cup of coffee with me? I can't take any more of this nonsense and neither can you."

She expected him to say no. Why would he go anywhere with her, much less something intimate like going to get coffee? But to her surprise he nodded and stood, moving to get his coat. Courtney could hardly believe it, but she sobers and goes to grab her own jacket. She gave Bridgette a hug goodbye that was quickly cut short when someone hurt himself or herself on the show, and everyone burst into a collective round of cheers and shudders. Some things never seemed to change, Courtney realized with a shake of her head. She looked to Duncan, who was waiting for her by the front door, and smiled to herself.

Some things never changed indeed.

"Your car or mine?" she asked, already pulling out her keys.

"We can walk. There's a place not too far from here."

Courtney had almost forgotten what the sound of his voice was like. She was surprised to hear it, and wondered when had been the last time that he had spoken to her. She had expected it to change, but it had not. It was still the voice of the boy she had loved so well, many years ago.

"That's fine. But do they have good coffee?" she tried to joke, following him in the direction he was heading.

"It fills the need," was all he replied.

They didn't talk the rest of the way there. Courtney wasn't one for small talk, and in Duncan's state she wasn't going to prompt him into making any. It didn't feel awkward, or forced. Just quiet, peaceful. 

The coffee shop wasn't a chain, and it wasn't one of those imaginative new places that popped up every other week. Simple, and Courtney respected that. Duncan held the door open for her and she walked in, breathing in the smell of roasted coffee beans.

"Do you still take your coffee black?"

"Yeah."

"Would you dare to share a scone with your sworn enemy?"

"No. But maybe a muffin," Duncan replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "And you ain't my enemy," he mumbled, but Courtney had already walked away.

She ordered the drinks and brusquely scanned their muffins as if she were picking out an engagement ring, until finally she found the one that suited her. Courtney carried their goods over to the table Duncan had saved for them, setting it out precisely.

They sipped their coffees in peace, Duncan staring out the window and Courtney trying to look anywhere but. She didn't know what to say to him. What if she said something wrong?

"Christmas is coming soon."

"Yeah."

"Will you be with your family."

"I don't have too much of a choice. Parents don't want to let me too far out of their sight."

"Well, your mother has always worried about y-"

"S'not because she's worried, it's just…"

"She doesn't trust you?"

Duncan fell silent, gripping his coffee for a moment before letting it go, his hands falling to make fists again. Courtney instinctively reached out to grab his hand.

"Stop that. Talk to me, I'm here."

"Yeah, and why's that?" Duncan spat bitterly. "Why are you here? Why are you even talking to me? Shouldn't you hate me, and wish me dead, and never want to see my lying, cheating ass again?"

Courtney dropped his hand, looking down for a moment before looking back up. His eyes searched wildly for answers, and for once Courtney didn't have them.

"Duncan, that was a long time ago. We... I'd like to think we've all grown up from that."

Duncan scoffs, looking back out the window.

"I don't hate you. I certainly don't wish you dead."

"Why?"

"Because I've let it go, Duncan." Courtney sighs and grips the cup of coffee in her palms. "I don't like seeing you like this. You aren't yourself."

"What's it to you? Be real, Courtney. You're only doing this to calm your guilt, and then you'll never speak to me again."

"That isn't true."

"Sure it ain't, Sweetheart." She cringed at the old pet-name. He'd always used it so sarcastically, as if trying to demean her. Courtney didn't answer for a few moments, unsure of what to say. What could she possibly say to temper the situation? He was angry, he didn't want her pity, and yet… she couldn't let him stay like this. It was eating her up inside.

"What was it like?" Courtney asked softly, raising her eyes to look at him. "Prison, I mean."

Duncan's eyes widened slightly and he let go of his coffee, his hands falling to the sides of the table. He clenched his fists a few times, mulling over exactly what to say to her.

"It wasn't no picnic, I can tell you that."

"That's not what I meant, Duncan."

"I know. But you... you wouldn't understand, okay? I could tell you all about how awful it was, right down to the gritty details but… you still wouldn't get it unless you'd lived through it," Duncan explained, staring outside for a moment. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"But you've told Gwen, haven't you?" Courtney deadpans, some of her old jealousy rising up. They were always so close, the two of them. To this day, there were things he had told Gwen that he had never, and would never share with Courtney, and it irked her to no end.

"She was there," Duncan said coldly. "I needed to talk to someone, and I sure as hell wasn't going to talk to Ma, or my brothers. She was just… there."

"I want to be here for you too," Courtney said. "I don't know why. You're still the boy who cheated on me and broke my heart, but… you're still the boy I was so much in love with," she said honestly. "So please… just let me be here for you."

Duncan didn't respond. If this were three years ago, he would have had a comeback, snapping at her for the cheesy bullshit she'd just uttered. But they'd grown up, and he had changed.

"How?" he asked, and Courtney's heart broke at how broken he sounded.

"We'll start with coffee. Once a week, right here."

"Okay."

Courtney took his hand and gave it a hard squeeze.

"Okay."


End file.
